


like a movie scene in the sweetest dreams

by blanchtt



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: It’s the one thing, really, that she doesn’t see the use of magic for.





	like a movie scene in the sweetest dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little writing exercise inspired by a cute teenage [skateboarding Lilith and her femme girlfriend Zelda fan art](https://cleocatdraws.tumblr.com/post/186224608829/cute-skateboarding-lesbian-lilith-and-her-sweet), except set in the 1950s because the CAOS aesthetics gives me retro vibes.

It’s the one thing, really, that she doesn’t see the point in using magic for.

And coming from her family, with her name, there’s little magic she can’t do. Lilith, named after the demoness, their lineage the foundation of their previous coven. 

But for this, magic, Lilith knows, stomping on the edge of her skateboard and catching the other end in her hand, would not make a handstand quite so challenging, would not make flaunting gravity quite so extraordinary, and would not make defying her family quite so satisfying. 

It’s nothing but boys, mortal usually but with the occasional warlock crowd, converging on an abandoned house near the outskirts of town that happens to have a very large and very empty old swimming pool. After she’s shown them up in the makeshift bowl—and hexed the ones who’d tried to touch her inappropriately, male dignity affronted by a young woman in their space—they’d stopped harassing her, choosing instead to avoid her. 

It’s more than fine with Lilith.

She focuses on skating, on being better at the one thing that comes with no expectations from her parents, her coven, her religion, and it’s why, one of those weekend afternoons where neither witches nor mortals have school and there is unknown mingling, that she actually comes to a stop after a smith grind and pauses for just a heartbeat, sees, while she’s been busy, that a girl clad all in black is watching from among the boys.

Attraction’s something she’s always been able to pick up on almost effortlessly, like second nature. 

There’s a warlock hanging around her, in tight jeans and hair slicked back like it’s the style now. But it’s _ her_, from their coven, and Lilith licks her lips, smiles all teeth, knows the boy at her side is only her brother, and turns back to the bowl, pushes and drops in and _ flies_. 

-

There are some nights she practices and it’s all about tricks complicated enough for her to spend a week, two weeks learning before mastering. Others, it’s about stamina, about practicing things between easy and hard until the sun’s long gone down and Stolas waits asleep in a nearby tree. And yet others it’s about speed, careening down whatever empty country road she can find, crouched steady on her longboard, wind whistling around her. 

She paints her nails a bloody red though the edges will be chipped within a few hours of practice from grabbing her board or the cement lip of the empty pool, tucks her curls carelessly behind her ears and shirks a hair-tie even though by the end of the night it’ll be a wild, tangled mane. She draws on a leather jacket and laces her sneakers and walks over, and there, at the abandoned house, is Zelda again, Lilith sees as she pushes the wooden gate open, slips into the backyard. And Edward too, except boys will be boys and they cluster together, talking too loudly and taking up too much space, leaving Zelda alone.

Zelda stands watching the few other warlocks skating, black dress severe and crossed arms making her look even more so, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers. But Lilith meets green eyes—gaze steady and with a practiced disinterest, but that’s never stopped her—and winks overtly as she shrugs her jacket off and tosses it aside, gets a thrill out of the slightest upward turn of Zelda’s mouth that it gets her. It’s barely a smile, but it’s an acknowledgement at least. 

Lilith calls out to Edward in particular because it’s amusing to watch him fail, despite him being decent enough for a teenage boy, and kicks his ass and practices with the others until the warlocks left are few and far between. It’s when the streetlight goes off, leaving them with nothing but the moon and starlight, that they pack up, heading out before their noise is enough to reach some mortal house and have the cops called on them. 

They trickle through the gate and out on the street, Zelda behind them, and this is her chance, Lilith knows.

“Can I walk you home?” she aks, sidling up to Zelda as she hikes her board onto her shoulder. It’s redundant, really—they’re all going the same way and the boys are already walking ahead of them, their group loose and spread out over the road. But it gets a demure smile out of Zelda, and Lilith histands a little taller, can hardly believe her luck as Zelda acquiesces and falls in step next to her, asks—

“You’re new to Greendale, aren’t you?”

-

Her studyig is done for the Academy for tonight, and she slips out of the house, walks towards the pool like always.

It’s well past the witching hour, into those liminal hours where even the forest around them is quiet, the deer asleep and the lights from peripheral homes long out. One lonely streetlight illuminates the abandoned house, and as she slips though the wooden gate and into the backyard under that familiar hazy orange glow Lilith can see Zelda Spellman sitting at the lip of the empty pool, legs crossed, skirt smoothed over her knees, and smoking something that’s certainly not a cigarette.

After that night she’d walked her home, _ Zelda _ had been the one to take the seat next to her at their next unholy sabbath, had sat next to her quietly and following along in her Satanic bible dutifilly as their new priest, some boring warlock named Father Blackwood, read aloud. But Lilith had nudged Zelda’s ankle with her sneaker, teasing because the other witch was almost so outdatedly _ pious_, and hadn’t been rebuked for it.

Lilith drops her board to the ground and rolls by Zelda, who doesn’t flinch, drops into the pool and kicks around it for a bit before stopping at the bottom to take off her jacket, too-warm now. 

She tosses the leather up from her position, somewhere onto the yard, and is surprised to hear Zelda speak.

“What’s that one called?”

“Just skating,” Lilith says, holds back a chuckle. Now unencumbered, she steps back on her board, flicks it with her feet so that the board moves in a one-eighty, and shows off. “This is a shuvit. Hardflip. Ollie.”

She goes through the motions as easy as spellwork, can’t help but look up occasionally and find Zelda’s eyes trained on her with an intensity belied by the joint in her hand.

“Show me more,” Zelda says, a demand almost, and Lilith feels her lip curl in a grin, pushes against the ground impulsively and starts up one side of the pool and then the other, gathering speed, momentum.

She knows the feeling and timing as well, as intuitively as the magic in her blood, and by the time she’s gained enough air she grabs the lip of the pool as she reaches it and does a handstand, board held over her,_ close_, leaning in but still asking to be met in this moment where neither gravity nor propriety matter.

And she feels adrenaline slip through her deliciously as Zelda’s lips brush against hers quickly, before Lilith is forced to drop back down, to let go of the pool's edge, and to eventually comes to a stop.

“And that was?” Zelda asks, and Lilith can’t help but bat her eyelashes, tease—

“A kiss.”

“Smartass,” Zelda says to the night, but it has no teeth to it as she takes another drag at her joint, and Lilith grabs her board, scrambles up the steep side and hauls herself over the lip, stands and offers a hand to Zelda.

“The house is empty, but the locks still work,” Lilith says with a nod of her head, the insinuation hardly hidden. It’s what the other witches and warlocks and even mortal boys and girls do, alongside drink and smoke, whenever someone actually manages to get their girl to come down to the pool and watch them, and it hasn’t escaped her notice that no boy’s managed to charm Zelda into slipping away inside the house.

There’s no magic to skating, Lilith knows. But there is in a way, because this time her stomach doesn’t drop from a missed heelflip or landing a perfect noseslide but from Zelda Spellman with her dark eyeliner and bright copper hair looking up at her, smiling a real smile before grinding out her joint, taking her hand, standing, and threading their fingers together before following her.


End file.
